In Memory of Harav HaGaon Reb Azriel Goldfein ztz"l
Zohar (3:46b):
© Rabbi David Lapin, 2007
This week a dark tragedy befell the Jewish community of South Africa: it lost its beloved and revered Rosh Yeshiva, Rabbi Azriel Goldfein ztz"l, originally from Minnesota, USA. He was a man of gigantic Torah stature by any international standard. But his egoless humility, his love of people and adoration of the Torah, his fanatical pursuit of shalom, and his almost fanatical insistence on normality, nobility of character and balance set him apart in a regal class of his own. The community lost a leader, his Yeshiva lost a Rebbe and father, and I lost a mentor and beloved friend.
At the Shiva House, his Rebbetzin (may G-d bless her with many healthy years) told me that R. Azriel said recently that he was not afraid of Hashem asking him why he did not learn more Torah than he did. He knew that he learnt and taught Torah at every moment that was available to him. He only feared G-d asking him why he did not speak out enough against distortions of truth, deviations frommesorah (authentic tradition), the fermentation of machlokes (strife), the incubation of sin’at chinam (ungrounded hatred) and the drift towards an emphasis on externalisms to the detriment of authentic and intrinsic nobility.
Most people ought to worry about Hashem holding them to account for the things they say, not for the things they do not say. Not so R. Azriel: He never spoke lashon harah (slander); he never spoke about people at all. He never judged people, gossiped about them or interfered in their business. In his quest for shalom he often held his tongue even when he himself was under attack for refusing to buy in to communal separatism, religious exhibitionism and politics. When he saw trends, movements, actions and attitudes of which, based on the purity of his Torah and the authenticity of his mesorah, he disapproved, he would at most make a comment to his talmidim in order to guide them. But he would never comment outside the walls of his Yeshiva. The only words he ever uttered in public were words of Torah and Chessed (human kindness).
So why, if when he chose not to speak it was always for such pure intent, would he worry about what he did not say?
There is a staggering comment in the Zohar (3:46b): "Just the same consequence that applies to a person who spoke lashon harah,applies for the unspoken good word that he could have uttered and did not….how much more so when the community follows a wrong direction and he could mentor them but remains silent".
The Shem Mishmuel (Vayeishev 5677) uses that Zohar to explain why the torah criticizes Yosef for speaking lashon harah to his father about his brothers. Why, asks the Shem Mishmuel, would the saintly Yosef do that? And surely if he did, it was for no reason other than that his father should mentor them and correct their ways? TheShem Mishmuel answers, that Yosef ought to have confronted his brothers directly. They might then have explained themselves in a way that Yosef may not have understood before hand, and that would have averted suspicion, mistrust and hatred. Alternatively they would have acknowledged their wrongdoing and, grateful to Yosef for bringing it to their attention, correct their ways. Instead, Yosef, too humble to confront his great brothers directly, takes his report to their father. He is criticized for not speaking up in the moment at the times he ought to have. It is for that reason that the words he did not say to them but instead said to his father are considered lashon harah. Just as there is no excuse for lashon harah, so there is no excuse for silence when it is appropriate to speak. Inappropriate speech islashon harah; inappropriate silence is lashon harah too.
In many societies, especially in the United States, there is an implied social contract: You do not judge me and I will not judge you. That is a fine arrangement between individuals who do not want others to challenge their attitudes and actions. It is an arrangement that encourages harmony but inhibits growth. However when it comes to communal leadership such an arrangement is immoral and undermines the very essence of leadership. Judging people is inappropriate; judging their actions is not. Gossip and slander is inappropriate, but silence in the face of injustice, deceit, and corruption is even more inappropriate.
Rabbi Goldfein ztz"l was not concerned about inappropriate talk. He was concerned about inappropriate silence. I know why he was silent. His silence was not born out of fear; he feared no one. It was not out of apathy, he was the epitome of empathy. He was silent because in his humility he feared that his quiet, wise voice of normality, balance and reason would be lost in a world enamored with extremism. Unheard, his words would be interpreted as having mal-intent, they would fracture trust and shatter peace. That was a risk he would not take, ready instead to face his Creator with pride and confidence. He will not need to defend himself: his tongue, his hands and his mind are pure. But I do pray that in Heaven he will be silent no more, that he will speak out in our defense and implore Hashem to save His world, and deliver His People.
